


A Legend of the Butterflys

by ticknart



Category: Star vs. The Forces Of Evil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-19
Updated: 2017-07-19
Packaged: 2018-12-04 02:46:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11545881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ticknart/pseuds/ticknart
Summary: Moon tells a story as she tucks Star into bed.





	A Legend of the Butterflys

Settle down, dear. Settle down and I'll tell you a story.

\--A Grandma story.

Yes, a Grandma story.

When Mewni was young, my dear child, the world was dark. Only the two moons and the stars hung glowing in the sky. But the light of the moons was pale. They provided just enough light so that one couldn’t see much more than her hand in front of her face unless the moons were both full, but not much more than that. 

There were no villages or castles at that time, only the Wandering Tribes of Mewni. They set up camp long enough to go hunting and fishing, foraging for the thing necessary for survival. After a short time, they moved on. Sometimes they followed the food. Other times they ran from danger. Never settling long enough to build a home. Never taking the same path twice.

\--Why didn't they build homes?

The monsters, dear. Monsters thrive in the darkness. Many can see in the dark as you can see in the brightest day. Some don't even use their eyes to move through the night. Some can smell the way the wind shifts around trees or bushes or boulders and walk safely. Others quietly cry out into the dark and the sounds bring them images of everything around them so they know the best path to stalk their prey. The Mewmans had none of these advantages.

\--And that's why they kept moving.

Yes.

You see, the Mewman has discovered that most monsters did not like fire. Many were scared of it. So when a single monster came near the camp, a torch could scare it off. The same worked when two or three came at once. As long as the monsters came in such small groups, the Tribe could be defended. The tribe was safe.

All monsters are cruel. And most monsters are stupid. But some monsters are clever. Those few would gather other monsters to them. Their small group would grow into a horde. The hordes would attack a tribe. The tribe could not fight off a horde of monsters. The only way to save the people, to save the tribe, was to run. And if they ran before the monsters came, then everyone and everything could be saved.

\--Where's the Grandma?

She was a young woman of a tribe. She was a hunter and a trader and a scout. She learned how to use her bow to become the most skilled hunter. She sharpened her wits to become the most successful trader. But from the moment she could walk, she was the greatest scout.

The slightest bend to a blade of grass could tell her the full history of a meadow. She could tell which kind of monster had brushed by a tree by looking at how the leaves fell. She only had to follow a path once and she could walk it again with her eyes closed.

One day she was scouting a moun--

\--What was her warnicorn like?

Darling, this was before the Mewmans had tamed the warnicorns.

\--Oh. Did this Grandma tame the warnicorns?

No, that was another.

\--Can I hear that story?

Not tonight. I'll tell you that story the next time I tuck you in.

\--Promise?

Yes. Now, where was I?

\--She was scouting.

Right. In the mountains. She was looking for a pass that her tribe could use to go through the mountains before the winter snows came. She didn't find a pass that day, but she did find tree like one she had never seen. It was alone in its place, surrounded by rocks and boulders. It's too long branches extended up into the air and bent over when they should have broken off. The leaves, patterned in bright colors, moved together in pairs. Under its canopy was warm as a spring afternoon and the air smelled sweet and clean, like nothing she had smelled before. She felt a pulsing and a pulling. She ran her fingers down one smooth branch until she reached the trunk. There, she pressed her hand onto the bark and she met no resistance. Her hand passed into the trunk of the tree. She felt the pulse of the tree penetrate her whole body, from head to foot. The pulse kept increasing in speed until it became one long hum in her body.

Scared, she pulled her hand from the tree. Once it was freed the hum stopped. A cool breeze swept under the tree's canopy, and she shivered. A shape appeared on her arm. It was a golden circle surrounded by seventeen points all facing out. Another appeared. Then another and another. The shape appeared on her arms, her legs, her stomach, anywhere on her body she could see. The shapes started to flake off, but more appeared in their place only to flake off again.

\--Mewberty?

Yes, dear. The first case of mewberty.

When she woke, she found herself holding a bow like one she had never seen before, with carvings spiraling around its surface. The leaves of the tree were no longer moving and had lost their color. Some fell and drifted to the ground

\--The wand?

Exactly.

Also her back itched and when she scratched, she found small wings there.

She didn't know what to do except go back to her tribe which she did. Hiding her wings as best as she could with her hair and her clothes.

The camp that the tribe had was mostly empty. It had only been two days since she had left. The hunters had found a throng of wragles and had taken as many people as they could to split the throng and drive the smaller group into waiting nets. Only the oldest and the youngest had been left behind.

That's when she heard a snap coming from the path the tribe had taken a few days before. Then she heard grumbling and growling. A horde of monsters was coming for her tribe and she was the only one who could defend the people. The only one who had heard the horde. Fortunately the moons were full, if not very bright. In the pail moonlight she saw largest horde she had ever seen. At least one monster for each able bodied person in the tribe. And she was the only hunter there, even if she wasn’t an adult, yet.

She pulled an arrow from the quiver on her hip and drew it back to her ear. She aimed and fired. The first monster fell. During this time, an alarm had been raised in camp and the oldest of the children had been sent to fetch the rest of the tribe.

She drew again, another hit. The horde paused. Again, hit. Again. Over and over she hit. Never had her aim been so true. But her quiver soon ran out of arrows with plenty of monsters still approaching.

She prepared to fight as many as she could using her bow as a staff or club. She swung it in front of her, feeling its weight in her hand, finding its balance. She shouted at the monsters as she swung the bow, hoping to intimidate as many as she could. The way she moved was like a dance.

When she finished, she drove one end of the bow into the ground in front of her and her body burst with light. Her wings grew. Her arms sprouted and grew. She pulled her bow out of the ground and lifted herself into the air.

This was the moment she became Lumina, First of the Butterflies.

The monsters froze.

One final time, she drew the bowstring to her ear. She aimed over the monster's heads and released. An enormous lance of light streaked overhead and into the horizon.

The monsters laughed.

She fell to the ground. No one knew if she was dead or alive.

One monster, the largest, came forward. It poked the body, turned to the horde and grunted something at them. The horde laughed again.

The Mewmans, looking out over the monster horde gasped, but not at the cruelty of the monsters.

No, behind the monsters, the sky had grown red. The red spread and the horizon became orange and then yellow.

Monsters began to take notice and turned to face the new sun. The higher the sun rose, the more panicked the horde of monsters became. They stood. Many dropped their weapons. And when the sun broke free of the horizon, bathing Mewni in its light and warmth, the monster horde ran.

The Mewmans were safe.

\--Wow.

I thought you would like the story. Now settle back. It's time to sleep.

\--Mom? What happened to Grandma Lumina?

She led her tribe wisely. She raised a family. She learned how to use her magic. 

\--Did she start the Magic Book?

No, Star. That came much, much later. But her sunburst marks are still used as a symbol for house Butterfly all over Mewni.

Now, good night, darling. Sweet dreams.

**Author's Note:**

> Last night, as I drifted off to sleep, I thought about the many myths peoples have for how the stars were created and/or placed in the sky. From that starting point, the train of my thoughts traveled the tracks of tenuous connection and arrived at this little ditty.


End file.
